


Refuge

by SpaceHobo



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I don't know what I'm doing anymore ;__;, Luke and Rey Are Not Related, Older Man/Younger Woman, Sex, Sex in an RV, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombies, Zombies?!, zombies!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-01 22:53:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14531100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceHobo/pseuds/SpaceHobo
Summary: "RUN. Run faster. FASTER YOU MORON." Running from a horde of zombies, a girl literally collides with a man who must make a decision between sacrificing a stranger to ensure his own safety, or taking a chance.





	Refuge

**Author's Note:**

> I? Don't? Know? What? I'm? Doing? Any? More? Apparently just writing ReyXLuke AU's until my fingers bleed?
> 
> Spawned by a picture posted in the ReyXLuke Discord chat that got about six different interpretations? My first thought was Zombie!Au. It also may or may not be an excuse for more Rey X Luke pr0nz bc I am a dirty boi.

_RUN._

Her feet pounded on the cracked concrete, the sound of her worn out boots making far too much noise for her liking and vying for attention between the pounding of her heartbeat in her head. 

_Faster. FASTER. FASTER YOU MORON!_

Her gasping breath was interspersed with a stream of hoarse curses as the horde’s snarls and moans grew louder.

_Oh Poe. Poe Poe Poe. Finn. I need you. Where are you?!_

She glanced behind her, seeing the first Infected come around the corner of a shambolic brick building still stained black with unknowable humors near its shopfront window. Without warning, she collided with something sturdy and yet slightly yielding. Alarmed, her gaze snapped back to in front of her where she saw a human figure stumbling backwards. Her stomach knotted, thinking she’d encountered another of the Infected. After a heartbeat, she realised the man in front of her was fully human. Filthy, disheveled, and unkempt, but fully human. 

“RUN!” he yelled in a voice gravelly from disuse.

She didn’t have to be told twice. She struggled to get her balance, watching the back of the man as he tore off down the leafstrewn street. Her lungs burned as she chased after him, seeing him disappear down an alley and through a gap in a fence. 

Go. GO GO GO. She urged herself. As she darted into the alley and dove through the fence, her ankle caught and she felt a sharp pain. She let out a cry that she tried to muffle, seeing the man heading pell mell away from her as she struggled to pull herself through the fence. 

_I’m dead. I’m through. This is it. They’re coming._

He glanced back, not hearing the accompanying set of footsteps he’d expected to hear, seeing her halfway through the gate and scrambling to pull herself through. For half a second he considered leaving her. He didn’t need another mouth to feed. He had a hard enough time keeping himself fed. She would be dead weight. She’d be inconvenient. She’d make his already intolerable life impossible. All of these excused raced through his mind even as he darted quickly back. Reason after reason to abandon the stranger presented themselves as he wrapped his arms around her middle and pulled her through, pushing the cut wire of the fence back into place and half picking her up. 

“I can walk-”

“No you can’t, shut up and hold onto me.” he growled, maneuvering in front of her and pulling her arms over his shoulders.

Realising he wanted her to climb onto his back, she did so, feeling it was a miracle he didn’t collapse from her added weight there and then. He was stronger than he looked as he secured his grip on her and tore off in the the direction of the woods. Normally, she’d have avoided the woods like the very real plague that had overtaken their world but he seemed to have a destination in mind. She held on as tightly as she dared, hearing his heavy breathing as he ran, bearing her weight with surprising ease. 

“Keep your eyes peeled.” he said in between panting breaths. “It was clear when I went out on patrol but things could have changed.” 

“Ok.” she said.

Her voice so close to his ear made the hair rise on his neck and he tried to forget it’d been at least fifteen years since he’d had a woman this close to him. His muscles burned and he was extremely grateful that they would soon be at his camp. As light as she was, he knew he wouldn’t be able to carry her indefinitely.

“Oh!” she said suddenly as they came into a clearing.

Before them was a derelict looking RV attached to an equally dilapidated truck. The man, still cautiously looking around for any attacking Infected, pulled a key from around his neck and unlocked the door.

“Home sweet home.” he murmured, opening the door and ascending the three steps up into the camper. 

She held onto him just long enough for him to re-lock the door behind him and carry her to a worn out looking upholstered bench. He set her down gently, careful not to jar her foot as he stepped away, finally letting himself sag against the table beside the bench. They looked at each other for a long, _long_ moment. 

“Thank you.” she said softly, shifting painfully as she finally took in the appearance of her rescuer. 

He stood a few inches taller than her; his dirty, greasy grey-blonde hair was a little longer than shoulder length and he’d tied most of it back in a messy ponytail. She estimated him to be in his late fifties, his face lined and dirty and decorated with a scruffy beard that was mostly blonde going to grey but had gone straight white in places. His lips were cracked and his red-rimmed blue eyes held the same hunted, anxious look she’d seen in survivors everywhere. Her own brown hair was just as filthy and she knew her face was caked with grime and most probably a fair bit of blood from one of her last kills. She stank to high heaven; she knew this because she could even smell herself. 

“Which ankle did you hurt?” he asked in that voice that told her it’d been a fair while since he’d talked to anyone.

She shifted, lifting her injured right ankle and wincing as the movement caused another stabbing pain.

“May I take a look?” 

She nodded, watching him as he carefully unlaced her worn out boots and gently eased it off. She jolted as his roughly calloused fingers brushed the skin of her ankle, her sock being rolled down. For a moment, she felt embarrassed as she realised he could see her unshaven leg-hairs. He didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t seem to care. With a gentleness that surprised her, he palpated her ankle, manipulating it slowly up and down.

“Well what’s the verdict, Doc?” she asked, attempting 

“Doesn’t seem to be broken. Probably just badly sprained. Lucky you were wearing those and not tennis shoes or something.”

He crossed to a cabinet next to a tiny shallow sink, rummaging in it for a moment.

“My mum used to criticise me for owning too many pairs of boots. Imagine what she’d say if she discovered they’d been the difference between a sprain and a break…” she mused, half to herself.

“Yeah?” he returned with a worn but clean looking old ACE bandage.

Again he knelt by her feet, taking her injured ankle and resting it against his dirty jean-covered knee as he began to carefully wrap the bandage around her bruised limb.

“Yeah…. Doc? How’d you find this thing?” she asked, fully looking around at the RV they were currently in. The decor told her it had been around in either the late eighties or early nineties. Everything was wood paneled or in that weird set of colours that had been popular back then. Everything was worn and faded with the appearance of having been well maintained for a time, but also well loved. She looked over his shoulder and could see the narrow door to a tiny bedroom half opened, the faux wood paneling peeling away at the top, bottom, and around the door handle.

“It’s mine.” he said shortly.

“As in you bought it before the Infection hit?” 

“Ages before the Infection hit.” he snorted. “It’s probably older than you are. How’s that feelin’ Boots?” he asked as he tucked the end of the bandage into itself.

She stood up, testing her weight on it.

“Well it still hurts. But this is helping.” she said gratefully, looking down at her bare bandaged foot on the worn out grey-beige carpet. 

In another life, she might have been disgusted by the clearly old and dirty camper, but given how she’d lived the last year and half of her life, it was a welcome sanctum of comparable softness and homeyness. She looked up at him again.

“Did you call me ‘Boots’?” she inquired.

“Yeah. Well you called me ‘Doc’, so I figured I ought to return the favour.” he said with half a lopsided grin.

“Isn’t that a popular cat name?”

“Probably. Does it matter?”

She shook her head slowly, running over the moniker in her head. In the post Infection world, real names seemed unimportant. People found each other and lost each other so frequently there was no point getting further than a first name. Even a fake name sometimes seemed like too much work when you were likely to watch that person getting eviscerated by the creatures the human race had become.

“Boots it is then.” she agreed, meeting his gaze and finding herself captivated by his vibrant blue eyes.

“You need to stay off of that for a few days.” he replied, nodding to her foot.

She bit her lip. 

“You don’t think they’ll find this place? What happens if-”

“We’re far enough back for the hordes not to bother much with us. Find a straggler from time to time but nothing I can’t deal with.” 

“Couldn’t we drive further?”

“Could. Could do that. If my damn truck hadn’t run out of gas almost as soon as I’d gotten out of the city. This is as far as she goes until I can get a full tank of gas. And even then…. Not sure there’s much chance of getting out anyway. Highways are packed solid from what I’ve seen.”

She was silent for a moment, then she lowered her head in defeat.

“It’s the same everywhere then….” 

Doc nodded, peering out the window at the darkening clearing around the RV. 

“It’s getting late.” he said. “You should get some rest. Here, put your arm around my neck.” 

Awkwardly, she let him help her up and they crab-walked towards the half-opened door of the RV’s bedroom.

“Oh. Oh no, I couldn’t. I can sleep on the couch.” she protested, nodding at the worn out couch beneath a dirty window.

He made a disparaging noise, hauling her easily into the tiny bedroom and depositing her on the bed. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. Sleep in the bed. I’ll take the floor.” He grabbed a pillow from one side of the full sized bed and tossed it into the narrow gap between bed and wall. “Can’t promise the sheets and stuff are perfectly clean. Don’t get the chance to do much laundry out here.” he quipped.

Despite the awkwardness of the situation, despite the throbbing pain in her ankle, Boots smiled. She sighed in defeat. In truth, it’d been ages since she’d slept in a real bed. No matter how the sheets smelled, they couldn’t smell any worse than she did. She toed off her other shoe, pulling off her other sock and reveling in the feel of carpet between her toes. Boots eased herself back onto the bed, propping herself up against the wall with one of the remaining pillows. She glanced over at her companion who had stood up and was sidling toward the door. 

“Hungry?” he asked.

Boots nodded sheepishly, hating herself even more for the possibility of taking from his supplies. He gazed at her for a moment, then walked back out into the ever-darkening middle of the RV. She heard him clattering around the tiny kitchen and was surprised when he returned a few minutes later with two battered bowls full of what appeared to be soup.

“It’s not hot, but it’ll do for now.” he said apologetically. “Had a couple cans left I was saving for a rainy day.” 

“Thank you.” she said softly. “Thank you so much. This is more than I’ve had for… well for a long, long time.” 

Doc jerked his head in acknowledgment, tucking into his cold soup. They ate in silence as the world around them got darker and darker and the sound of the night-time insects became all-consuming. When she’d finished her meal, scraping every last unrecognisable morsel from the bowl and licking it clean, he took it from her and she could hear him rinsing the dirty dishes off in the tiny sink she’d seen earlier.

While he was gone, she eased herself out of her dirty jean jacket and cargo pants, slipping underneath the covers and enjoying the long missed sensation of sleeping on a mattress beneath civilised sheets and a fluffy comforter. Doc returned to see a passed out Boots, her bare shoulder exposed and the hint of a days-past-it’s-laundry-date red camisole visible. Before he could register what he was doing, he twitched the blanket up over the sleeping woman’s shoulder, tucking her in against what he knew would become a cold night. Doc picked up the worn blue and grey afghan his wife had crocheted years ago on her first and only foray into any kind of domestic hobby. He lay down on the carpeted floor next to the bed, pulling the blanket up over himself and clutching the pillow to his head. Moonlight poured in through the only window in the room; a skylight high up on the roof, half covered by fallen pine needles. 

As he drifted off, he listened out for the telltale shuffling or moans of Infected invading his makeshift home. Fortunately, all he could hear was the far off hoot of an owl and the all pervading hum of crickets. For now they were safe.

*&^%$%^&*

A choking scream made Doc bolt upright, reaching for his gun but not finding it. For a moment he was confused, not realising where he was or why he was on the floor. The second cry jolted him back to his senses and he hauled himself upright, seeing Boots flailing in the insubstantial beams of moonlight. He hurled himself onto the bed, grabbing her wildly struggling fists and trying to shake her awake before she either hurt herself or her screams alerted someone-something other than himself to their presence. Tears rolled down the woman’s face, tracing paths of clean flesh out of the dirt and grime that had accumulated there. 

“Boots! Boots wake UP!” he hissed, shaking her again.

Her brown eyes shot open, looking like pools of blackness in the dark of the bedroom. She too suffered a moment of disorientation before she dissolved into silent tears, collapsing against his chest. Bewildered, Doc held her close, rubbing her back and murmuring what he assumed were soothing words to her. Her grip on him tightened, rather than relaxed as her body wracking sobs slowly ebbed away and became infrequent shudders. He could feel her breath on his skin, hot and damp and mildly uncomfortable; like a Georgia evening in August. Doc didn’t bother trying to dislodge her, she was as tightly woven around him as two people could be while wearing clothes. He felt her face shift against his chest, craning her neck up at him.

“I saw them die.” she said in a whimper that was barely audible. “Infected….”

“Who?”

“My mum and dad. My sister….. Even the fucking _dog_.” Boots breathed. “Nothing left but a smear. So _red_.”

Doc swallowed hard, remaining calm and silent as she quieted against him. 

“It’s not your fault.” he said after a long moment.

She let out a bitter laugh.

“I know that. It doesn’t make me feel better. It doesn’t make the dreams stop…..” she replied hollowly.

He pushed her away slightly, finally able to dislodge her deathgrip on him.

“None of this is because of people like us, Boots. We’re not cowards for running. Or for surviving.” 

Boots nodded, her expression only half unconvinced.

“Do you want to try to go back to sleep?” Doc asked awkwardly.

“Yeah…. Might as well.” the young woman replied.

Doc moved to go back to his pallet on the floor, her fingers dug into his arms, her grip tightening on him.

“Stay.” it was more of a plea or command than an offer.

Even more befuddled than before, he slowly eased himself down next to her, lying on top of the blankets and maintaining a careful distance between them. After a while, he rolled to the side and scooped up his discarded afghan, returning to lie as still and respectfully distant from his guest as possible. As the night wore on and sleep again stole over the two, all remained thankfully and gratefully calm and the two exhausted survivors slept peacefully and unbothered by the crumbling world around them.

*&^%$%^&*

The following morning Doc awoke with an unfamiliar but not unwelcome weight on his chest. He glanced down, seeing that during the night he and his new companion had become entangled. Boots lay half across him, one arm stretched over his middle as she rested her head on his chest. She snored gently and he wondered when the last time was she had had a truly restful night’s sleep. She’d turned herself into a human pretzel and one sharp knee was prodding him in the side, putting pressure on his bladder and kidney. Doc sighed, loathe to move her, but the need to pee getting unbearable. Reluctantly, he disentangled himself for the sleeping girl, tucking the crocheted afghan around her securely as he quickly and quietly stepped outside to water the daisies, so to speak. 

It was a lot later than he’d normally have awakened. The sun was already high in the sky and birds chirped their mating songs away in the hidden branches of nearby trees. As he finished up, shaking off the last few drops and zipping up his jeans, he peered around at the shadowed corners of his clearing. It wouldn’t do to get eaten taking a morning leak. Thankfully, all seemed clear and he re-entered the RV to wash his hands and scrounge up something vaguely meal shaped for them to share. He found a box of expired Belvita biscuits and withdrew two packages, returning to the bedroom to find Boots still asleep, but frowning as she did so. The frown lessened as he sat down on the end of the bed, his weight causing the mattress to dip slightly. She moaned in her sleep and Doc glanced at her as he tore open on the breakfast biscuit packages with his teeth. Boots eventually did wake up, peering at him through sleep crusted eyes that were brighter and more well rested than they had been in ages. 

“‘Mornin’.” he said cautiously.

“Good morning.” she said with a sleepy smile. “Thank you for staying with me.”

“Any more bad dreams?”

Boots shook her head, taking the unopened Belvita package offered to her and tucking into the stale, tasteless crackers.

“I know, they’re terrible. Technically expired but what are you gonna do, huh?”

“Thank you anyway.” she said around a mouthful of the dreadful things.

Doc finished off his own unsatisfactory meal, tossing the empty package into a somewhat overflowing waste bin in the corner.

“So.” he started.

“So….. what?”

“So you have to stay off of that for at least a week. That means I’m gonna need to go acquire some more supplies.”

Boots nodded in understanding.

“Do you know how to use a gun?” he asked.

“Doesn’t everyone who survived this long?” 

“You’d be surprised.” 

“Yes I can fire a gun. And a crossbow. And I’m fairly handy with a bowie knife.”

He looked at her with new appreciation.

“Good to know.” he stood up, taking her empty wrapper and disposing of it. “Ok then. Well, then here’s the deal. I’ll head out for a few hours and see what I can scrounge from the area. I’ll leave you Bessie and enough ammo for a good long while. Do you think you can get around the camper ok or should I-”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. I can hop ok.” she assured him.

Doc opened the door to a tiny closet, pulling out a well loved shotgun and a gigantic rucksack, possibly large enough to put a toddler in. 

“Shells are in the bedside table.” he said, nodding to her right. “There’s some water bottles in the closet here if you get thirsty. If you need to…. Bathroom’s right over there. ‘Fraid it’s not much more than a port-o’ John at this point, but it works.” 

“You will come back, right?” she asked worriedly as he slung the rucksack onto his back.

He was surprised by the depth of concern in her voice. There seemed to be more to it than just worry she’d be left alone again.

“Yeah…. Yeah I’ll be back, Boots.” he said, meeting her concerned gaze. “Don’t you worry.”

Handing her the shotgun, she lay it across her knees and watched as he exited the RV. She heard the door being latched and listened as his footsteps dopplered away into the forest, leaving her alone in the silence. The solitude felt almost oppressive as she gazed at the small battery operated clock on the wall. Five minutes. Ten. Twenty. Forty. An hour and a half. At the two hour mark, her bladder made its demands known and she hobbled into the closet-like toilet room, half dreading what she might find there. There was a bucket of dirt to one side of the toilet with a small trowel one might use for gardening. After relieving herself, she hesitantly threw a small shovelful of dirt into the composting toilet, making a face as she caught a whiff of sewage.

She was exceptionally grateful that the RV had a little bit of running water and she washed her hands quickly, watching happily as the slight trickle of water washed away what was probably months of grime. Boots took the opportunity to explore her tiny surroundings. One mostly unused wall featured a few faded photographs taped up with Christmas themed Scotch tape. Doc was in most of them, in a few he was accompanied by a fiery red-haired woman who was all curves and stylish fashion. She traced her fingers over one picture where the woman was draped over Doc’s shoulder, red lips pressed against his cheek. This must be his wife….

It was only once the sun had begun to dip below the horizon that she saw a dark shape emerge from the woods. For a second she cocked the hammer back on the shotgun, fearing an Infected had discovered their refuge. Boots let out a sigh of relief as what was left of the sunlight illuminated the exhausted visage of Doc. On his back, the rucksack was stuffed full to bursting, a pair of newish looking black boots hung from a strap. She was alarmed to see the sleeve of his shirt was torn and was stained with blood. Boots hurried to meet him as he unlocked the door, heaving the overflowing pack off his shoulders and depositing it with a clang onto the floor. 

“Are you alright?? Were there any Infected? Are you hurt?” she reached to his arm, instinctually pulling him closer so she could inspect the wound. 

“Yeah I’m alright. Caught it going through the gate.” he grumbled. “Smarts like crazy but it should be ok. No Infected that I saw. Doesn’t mean there weren’t any there. I got what I needed and got the hell out as fast as I could.”

He flicked open the flap of the backpack, pulling out the day’s haul; boxes of cartridges, bandages, ibuprofen, various other medicines, a pack of socks, a wad of clothing, boxes of food, and-

“Soap!” she exclaimed with unbridled excitement.

“Thought you’d be excited about that.” he said glancing up at her. “Found you some clothes too. Surprising really, I guess the Infection took root here too fast for people to properly loot the stores. There’s plenty back there but this should tide us over for a bit.” 

Boots grabbed the box of soap and pressed it to her nose, inhaling the clean, familiar scent of Irish Spring.

“Is there-”

“There’s a fairly deep creek a few minutes walk north.” he finished for her. “But I’d rather you wait a little while until your ankle’s healed up enough. I’d prefer you be able to run if you needed to.”

She sighed.

“Fair enough.” Boots glanced back at the gash in his arm. “Can I help with that?” 

He looked at her cautiously before nodding and retrieving some of the bandages and antiseptic from the first aid cabinet. Meanwhile, Boots stumped over to the sink and wet a towel returning to sit beside him at the RV’s table. She lay out the supplies on the chipped teal formica top, peering at the four inch cut in his arm. It was high enough up on his bicep that she didn’t want to just push up the sleeve. It was a dirty shirt anyway. She looked at him pointedly.

“What?” 

“Take off your shirt.”

“It’s just a scratch.”

She rolled her eyes at him and stared at him until he gave an exasperated sigh. Doc grabbed his collar and tugged the dirty t-shirt over his head, sitting rather sheepishly in front of her. Boots noticed a dirty yellow and blue bruise discolouring his left side but diligently refrained from commenting on it. If he hadn’t mentioned it, he probably didn’t want her to talk about it. In the short time she’d been with her companion, she’d found him to be rather taciturn. And that was alright. 

As gently as she could, she cleaned the wound with the clean towel, wiping away dirt and blood and wincing in sympathy. It was deeper than it looked and she half wished she knew how to do stitches. Maybe that was something they could explore later on. It would be a handy skill to have. He was watching her with hawklike intensity as she spread antibiotic ointment over the gash, making sure some got down into the opening before she wrapped a bandage around it, tying it securely and sitting back to admire her work. 

“There.” she said, feeling pleased with herself.

Doc gave her a lopsided smirk. 

“Aren’t you gonna kiss it and made it better?” he said teasingly.

Boots leaned forward and pecked a kiss onto the bandaged injury she’d just dealt with, sitting back and enjoying the befuddled look he now wore. 

“There you go. What’s for food?” she asked, maneuvering herself back into the little kitchenette area.

Doc just watched her, the expressions chasing each other over his face bouncing between befuddlement, delight, and concern.

“Whatever you want, I suppose….”

*&^%$%^&*

True to his word, Doc made her wait a good week and a half before agreeing to make a trip to the creek. They passed their time in remarkably easy companionship. Doc going out twice more on supply runs that were less anxiety-ridden for Boots after he’d returned once with a bag full of novels from the local library. By the time he’d agreed she was healed up enough to go on this excursion she was fair itching to get out of the RV; half from cabin fever and at least partly from the build-up of dirt and sweat she’d been living in for months.

They hauled the bedding with them, Boots watching out for attackers with her shotgun primed and ready while Doc hurriedly washed it in the crystal clear water before wringing it out and laying it out to dry over some branches. The day was warm and balmy, just enough of a breeze to make everything feel calm and peaceful.

“You go first.” Doc insisted, pulling his .357 Magnum from his belt holster and making sure it was loaded. 

Boots wasn’t about to argue, immediately beginning to strip off her dirty clothes. Doc blushed furiously and hurriedly turned his back, Magnum held across his chest as if it would protect him not only from Infected, but from embarrassment. She picked up a bar of the green and white striped soap he’d brought back, half diving into the waist-high water of the creek, half falling into it. It was cold. Colder than any bath she’d have drawn for herself, but right that moment it was more comforting and refreshing than any shower or bath she’d had in her life. She had to stop herself from letting out a moan of pleasure as she submerged her whole body in the creek, letting her bare bum rest on the sandy bottom of the riverbed. Quickly, she lathered up her hands with the bar of soap, holding tightly to it lest it float away on the current. Boots watched as months of filth were removed from her skin, leaving it pink and scrubbed. 

Ashore, Doc half glanced at the bathing woman, feeling ever more guilty every time he did so. He’d told himself after the second stolen look that it had been the last but _damned_ if she wasn’t stunning. He turned nonchalantly just in time to see that she’d stood up fully, creekwater streaming down her slim, naked body. The cold of the water had made the nipples of her handful sized breasts pucker and his mouth suddenly felt quite dry. _Terrible awful no good dirty old man-_

Boots suddenly let out a yell and was surging out of the water towards him, a look of rage on her face. She grabbed the shotgun she’d left beside her discarded clothes, picking it up and aiming it in his direction.

“I’m sorry, I-”

She pulled the trigger, the gunshot going off and momentarily deafening him. She hadn’t fired at him, she’d fired at something behind him. He whirled around in time to see a half decomposed Infected crumple to the ground, it’s head nothing but a bloody mass of rotted tissue and teeth. Ears still ringing from the shot, Doc turned back to the girl who’d just saved his life while he was being a lecherous old man. 

“Shit. I’m sorry!” she exclaimed.

“ _You’re_ sorry?!” 

“I didn’t know what else to do, it was almost on you-” she pushed up his t-shirt sleeve. “Ugh, and I just bandaged this arm!”

It was only then he realised his arm was bleeding. Looking down he could see three tiny dots of buckshot embedded in his skin. Oddly, he didn’t seem to feel it. Boots palpated the area gently.

“It’s fine-”

“They’re not in too deep, I should be able to get them out.”

She squeezed the skin around one of the pieces and it popped out easily. Boots repeated the procedure twice more until all three pellets lay in the palm of her bloody hand. 

“I’m sure this water isn’t sterile but I don’t know what else to wash this off with. And you need a bath too….” 

“Boots?”

“Yes?”

“You’re still naked.” 

She looked down at herself absently as if she’d completely forgotten.

“So I am.” her eyes pierced his and suddenly he was the one who felt he’d been stripped bare. “Is that a problem?”

“Uh, no. No. Not at all. I just… Er.” 

She was close enough to him that he could feel the warmth of her bare skin through the fabric of his t-shirt. _Oh come on, now? You’re disgusting, old man._ He swore to himself as he felt a familiar but long since dormant stirring in his jeans. 

“You should bathe.” she was saying when he came back to his senses.

“Huh?” he said, startled.

“You should take a quick rinse off. Who knows how long we’ll be here. With access to running water.” Boots said insistently.

“Are you sure that’s a wise idea? There could be more of those things around?”

“Look, I wasn’t gonna say anything, but you’re getting pretty rank. Look, I brought your other change of clothes.” she said, motioning to the pile of clothes she’d brought. 

Boots crossed to them, picking her clothes out of the pile and dressing with no particular hurry. As she tied the laces on the new boots he’d brought for her those weeks ago, she smiled encouragingly at him.

“Well go on. I promise I won’t look.” she laughed.

Reluctantly, he set his gun down and began to slowly untie his own shoes; removing his socks and shirt and unbuttoning his jeans as he nervously headed toward the water. He waited until he was sure she was facing away before tugging off his pants and boxers and hightailing it into the water, face flushed red with embarrassment. 

Doc swore as the cold water hit his thighs, bits of him seizing up in protest. It was a good thing he wasn’t trying to woo the young woman fate had thrust into his life. No sane woman would be able to look at him in this state and do anything but laugh. Doc sat down on the riverbed, dunking his head and giving into begrudging gratefulness and pleasure that getting clean had given him. On the shore, Boots watched both their surroundings and the form of her bathing companion. 

“Here!” she called, tossing him a bar of soap which he miraculously managed to catch. He nodded in thanks, his wet hair falling into his eyes. 

He bathed quickly and with little other drama, exiting the creek with hands clenched over his vulnerables, still tomato red in the face as she handed him the pile of clean clothes she’d brought for him. As he hurriedly pulled on his underwear and pants, she cocked her head at him and smirked.

“You’ve got a nice bum for an older guy.”

Doc mouthed wordlessly, clearing his throat and pursing his lips as he muttered under his breath. 

“Oh come on.” she continued. “Turnabout’s fair play.” 

“I’m really sorry, I really didn’t mean-”

“I didn’t say it bothered me, Doc.” she patted his bare, damp shoulder. “Relax.” 

He finished dressing in silence, grabbing his Magnum and returning it to his waist holster where it gave him a little measure of courage. Boots had grabbed their dirty clothes as was scrubbing them clean on the rocks while he kept a wary eye out around them. 

Perhaps an hour later they were safely ensconced back in the decrepit RV, door securely locked behind them. Boots laid out the only slightly damp sheets on the bed, hanging their still very wet clothes over the closet door top and across the backs of some of the RV seating. She found Doc to be extremely quiet for the rest of the evening. As he prepared a meal of venison jerky and Campell’s Chunky canned soup, he seemed to have a heavy weight bearing upon his shoulders. 

When it came time to retire, Boots was surprised to see him taking his pillow and blanket off the bed and depositing it on the uncomfortable looking vinyl bench that seemed barely wide enough to cram a human body onto. She remained quiet about it, waiting to see what he did until they officially called it a night. The brunette woman watched her companion struggle to find a comfortable spot on the creaky bench, hearing him mutter and seem to settle after about five minutes. She shrugged, returning to the comparative comfort of the old sway-backed mattress and the relatively clean sheets. 

Doc watched as the RV’s interior got darker and darker. His back screamed at him in protest every time he attempted to find a comfortable spot on the awful bench. His cheek had slid off his pillow and was sticking to the musty smelling vinyl. The grey haired man lasted an hour before he admitted defeat and got up to pad silently back into the bedroom he’d once shared with his wife; his Mara Jade. 

“Boots?” he whispered.

“Hmmm?” her sleepy voice replied.

“Is it ok if I come back and sleep on the bed?”

“Doc, it’s your bed, of course you can sleep on it.” she said; he could hear the smirk in her voice.

He climbed under the cool, clean sheets, an unbidden groan escaping him as he settled into his familiar dip in the mattress. The body beside him turned towards him and he could feel her bare toes brush the side of his calf.

“Doc?” she whispered.

“Yeah Boots?” 

“Do you think….. Do you think we’ll make it? Do you think we’ll survive?” 

The older man paused for a moment.

“Yeah. I think we will.” he turned onto his side, seeing her eyes glitter like black opals in the semi-darkness of the room. 

“Will you promise…” she trailed off. 

“What?”

She edged slightly closer and he felt her hand clench around his bicep. He didn’t mind the slight sting brought on as she squeezed his twice-wounded arm, his mind was too busy trying to register that she was touching him. 

“Will you promise that we’ll get through this together?” Boots asked, her gaze plaintive and pleading.

“I promise.” 

Her lips curled into a smile, a moment later those lips were parted and pressed against his. Instinctually he reached for her, pulling her in close as he kissed her. She rolled on top of him, hungrily kissing him back as she scrambled to pull off her tank top. Boots took his hands in hers and placed them over her breasts. He’d been right: perfect handful sized. His thumbs flicked over her hardening nipples, making her let out a tiny whimper as she arched into his touch. It was his turn to roll her onto her back, eagerly twitching aside the crotch of her panties to run a finger between her lips. She clung to the collar of his shirt, tugging him closer, tighter to her. Doc kissed her starting at her exposed collar bone, trailing upward over her jaw, and reclaiming her lips. She hooked a leg around his waist, urging him onward. It had been so long since he’d done this. Longer still since he’d done something like this with a woman he’d cared for a deeply as he suddenly realised he cared for the nymph now writhing underneath him. 

“Doc-” she choked.

Slowly, slowly, _agonisingly_ slowly their bodies met, Doc sinking home inside her with an exquisite and torturous laziness that threatened to draw out a moan from him. Her teeth scraped over his jugular sending shivers down his spine as she wrapped her other leg around his waist, locking her ankles and pressing herself forward. Boots’ eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings against her cheeks, her flushed lips parting as they moved together in the instinctual dance of lovers. Doc’s mouth dipped to her breasts, paying worshipful homage to his own personal goddess: A disheveled girl with a busted ankle and worn out boots. The windlass in her belly tightened, tightened, _tightened_ and then broke free as she whimpered out her pleasure into his freckled shoulder. She felt the telltale speeding up of both his thrusts and his breath as he gripped the pillow under her head and half wept the name he himself had given her.

“Oh _fuck_ , Boots!” his moan echoed in her mind and would do so for the rest of her days. 

She stroked his back and shoulders with mindless happiness, kissing his grizzled cheek as he, in turn, pressed kisses to every inch of her he could reach. Exhausted, the pair lay next to each other, bodies intertwined as best they could, the moonlight illuminating the sweat that beaded like dew on their skin. He reached out and brushed a flyaway curl away from her face, somewhat startled by the depth of emotion he could read in her dark eyes. She curled herself into him, finding sanctuary in the encircling cage of his arms. Boots kissed the bit of chest she could reach, tasting salt on his skin. She gazed up at him, sleepy eyed in the near darkness.

“What’s your real name?” she asked, deciding now that _this_ was the person she’d been destined to survive this apocalypse with. 

“Luke. Luke Skywalker.” he replied in a voice soft with sleep. “And who are you really, Boots?”

She kissed him, revelling in their moment of shared normalcy. The fact the world was crumbling outside this tiny, dilapidated box meant nothing to her now. The fact that, despite her not having bothered to ask his age, he was likely twenty plus years her senior didn’t matter. For now in their refuge she could enjoy the feeling of another human’s companionship, another human’s love. Boots pushed herself up slightly, stealing another kiss and resting her forehead against his as she gazed into eyes that reminded her of clear blue skies.

“My name is Rey.”

*&^%$%^&*

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS HOPEFULLY A ONE-SHOT. I CAN'T HANDLE TRYNA MAKE THIS MORE. >__<


End file.
